Dissimulation
by Deviant Nation
Summary: Because little girls who are traitors with secrets untold and memories that can't be recalled are better off dead. This is for the sake of Konohagakure, this mission is a good thing. Or so the Council says. Anko was never meant to come home alive.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **6/18/2010. Fanfiction is being a DICK and won't let me centre ANYTHING. Not sure what's up with that. Regardless, it's annoying. Apparently they also took out ALL my divisions, leading to one big mess of a rambling story. I've re-added them, however. Hopefully, this time they'll stay.

* * *

**Dissimulation**

**Chapter 1**

**

* * *

**

_Anyone who has the power to make you believe absurdities has the power to make you commit injustices. _-_Voltaire_

* * *

They call upon her name in secret, as if the very mention of it is something to be ashamed of. They talk endlessly, and for hours, voices old and withered making judgemental decisions about things they possibly couldn't understand.

"_Worthless,"_ they say. _"She is worthless and she is a traitor. How can she _not _remember?"_

In her defence, it is said she has amnesia. All memories of the painful and rather traumatic event have been repressed, externally, or perhaps by the girl herself. The name Orochimaru makes her scream in terror, and she sobs without shame for hours on end when they talk of him. Regardless, she is nothing but a blank and empty slate. A physical examination also reveals years of what seems to be physical abuse, with acute scar tissue and marred muscle mass that makes her body seem like a pale canvas of brightly splotched purple paint marks.

"_Perhaps it's a good thing she doesn't remember,"_ one man suggests. _"Perhaps this is fate's way of taking pity on a girl who had far too much taken from her already."_

But the Council doesn't seem to agree and the Sandaime's words go ignored until they too call upon his name in secret.

"You must give her a mission," they tell him. "You must give her _the_ mission."

It is a cruel and unthinkable thing to do, especially to a girl so young, but it is for the sake of Konohagakure, and therefore, justified. A mission for Konohagakure, an honourable favor, a _good thing._

But there is nothing honourable, nor good about giving an A-class assassination mission to a young (broken) chunin like herself.

With much protest, the Hokage is forced to call upon her name one last time, and this time there is no secret.

Anko Mitarashi is being sent to die.

With no memories and only white space that Anko likes to pretend is a warm, fuzzy happy spot in her mind (but it really isn't, because that space is cold and hurtful and she wishes the whiteness to be black), Sarutobi Hiruzen asks Anko to do a very special thing.

She stands affront the great Hokage, the Sandaime, her saviour, the one man generous enough to show her kindness (or perhaps he is fortunate enough to be charitable), and wonders why after months of solitude (of doing nothing but sitting in apartment, because she can't go on missions and Council sees her to be a threat if she trains) he would summon her to his office.

"The village of Konohagakure calls upon your services in this time of war." He is sorely tempted to add 'Anko' at the end of it, as if to bestow upon the girl a term of familiarity, to let her know he stills cares, that he's still kind, and still guilty after everything he has put her through (because it was no one other than the Sandaime who suggested Orochimaru take on an apprentice…such a horrible idea, a horrible, brilliant, horrible idea…), but remains firm in his resolve, and says nothing, because what he is about to do is horrible (brilliant, but horrible), and he is at will of the Council once again.

He slides a folder towards her, and with caution, she fingers the file with wary (broken) fingers. As she reads, she doesn't seem to realize assassination assignments of this sort are normally meant for members of the ANBU, that the man she is meant to kill is a jounin far beyond her skills, or that she herself is simply an empty, almost useless chunin. Jutsu's flutter through her mind like trickles of dripping water, but her memories are still returning, and so most things are left forgotten, like much of her once prodigal skills.

"And this mission...there is no else?"

"No," he tells her. "You are the only one." Another lie.

There is no other girl (only fourteen years old – weak and miserable and willing to do anything the Hokage orders. No other girl without parents to protest to Sarutobi in private, no sensei to subtly suggest another girl is chosen; someone else, someone far less vulnerable and far more adept) who has the necessary skills. There are _no other_ girls. There is only Anko Mitarashi (fourteen years old, parentless, loyalties lost in the confusion of her abandonment, a girl who lives with secrets she cannot tell).

_Worthless,_ they say. _She is worthless and she is a traitor. How can she not remember? How is it that she can lie to our faces and feign innocence?_ _If she cannot give us what we want_ (and what they want is obvious; but information on her sensei is something she cannot give), _then she is better off dead._

If truth be told, there are many others with whom the Sandaime could have given thought to; many other girls far more skilled and far more beautiful, and a myriad of choices far better suited to this particular mission. There are many other girls, girls with enticing smiles and pretty, innocent eyes, girls who unlike Anko look happy and alive, girls who have much more to live for. But Konohagakure wants her dead; the Council wants her dead, and if the Sandaime wanted to be cruel, he could even suggest her former sensei probably wants her dead as well. It is Anko who is the traitor (the scapegoat for her sensei's misdoings) with no answers, and if she can't give them answers, then they're better off without her.

Her chocolate brown eyes swirl with perplexity, widening ever so slightly as her shaky, nimble (broken) fingers search over the mission file with doubt.

"_Why_, Hokage-sama?" she finally asks without realizing her great mistake. Because surely he wouldn't trust _her_ with such an important task…surely, there is someone more deserving. A more excellent shinobi than herself. But words, sharp and unknown come rushing back to her, and she flinches in pain. _Don't ever question the Hokage. Don't ever question your Elders. Don't ever question your teacher, your sensei, _me. Him. Him. _Him. Be silent and accept your duty willingly, for they know things that you could not. You are tool and I am your wielder. And I _will _break you._ The white blankness in her mind is aching with a dull throb. What is it that she can't remember?

She doesn't know...she hasn't known for quite some time. All she wants is for this pain to go away, for the villagers to stop leering at her, for their angry cries to become silent once again.

"You don't have to accept this, Anko," Sarutobi reminds her. He cannot resist using her name, with fondness, with guilt and regret. With his papers completely abandoned, his aged face scours the young girl's features for some sort of indication of her answer. If she is smart, she will decline this particular mission and go back home to her apartment complex and forget everything she has heard today, like everything she has forgotten in her past. If she is smart, she will realize this is mission she is meant to fail.

But like her sensei said, she was never that smart; just blunt like a battle-worn kunai and strong enough to endure. That is why he chose her, for she was dumb enough to follow, yet strong enough to handle the abuse. Like a stray puppy dog, he told Sarutobi. And knowingly, he used his pet like a lab-rat, because that's all she ever was to him; a pet.

"_Having me take on an apprentice was an excellent idea, don't you think, Sarutobi-san? This girl is _perfect_."_

Perfect for following orders and experimenting on and not crying when he struck her relentlessly for her failures.

She bites her lip, but nods her surly head in understanding. She will do as he has asked. She will garner his respect and admiration. She will not be weak (because weakness is unacceptable, right Sensei?)

"Mission accepted, Hokage-sama!" Her face beams with unbecoming brightness; her mood inappropriate and smile ringing with falsities. She will prove herself to this man willing to give her a second chance. She will not let him down. The Hokage nods, clasping his hands together in a display of authority, but he does not let the young girl know he is not at all pleased with her decision.

He secretly hates how happy she looks, her face beaming with the same virtues of a child. Her smile only makes it worse. She grins like an infant, displaying her emotions stupidly and without thought.

_Do not be happy with me, child,_ he wishes to say. _Do not think I am giving you a second chance. I am stealing away your innocence once again. You do not remember how you were robbed of it your first time… I once gave you to a man who turned you into a monster, and now I am delivering you into a fate far more cruel._

He is far more guilty than he would care to admit, but is unable to do anything but hide his sins behind his position and mantelpiece. He is the Hokage, Sandaime, shinobi Sarutobi Hiruzen and he is unable to be human and protect this girl from the abject horrors of this world.

"You are to report to Inu-san at 0600 hours," he informs her. "You will need training. He will be waiting for you at the ANBU Head-Quarters."

Again Anko nods, grasping the mission file in her small (broken) hands, and wordlessly, she exits his office through the wooden panel-door.

She cannot hear the guilt in his voice as she leaves, nor can she read his facial expressions (sadness, hurt, regret).

She is white, like the space in her mind, and she _is_ weak, like a slate wiped clean of any of its teachings.

_Inu-san will amend these things,_ the Sandaime thinks_. Inu-san_ _will prepare the girl for her mission, just as I have sent her to die. _

_

* * *

_

She calls her teacher Inu-sama, which annoys him, but not as much as how blind she is to her mission. But it's not only that; she annoys him in many other ways as well. Like how she smiles whenever he blatantly points out her mistakes, accepting that she's wrong without question, or the fact that she's _still _smiling when he hits her to prove a point. Her smile has become menacing, almost to the point of frustration, because he can't understand how someone as _screwed up_ as she is can pretend to be so _happy._ He has determined her cheery facade is nothing but a mask, and he out of all people can understand the merits of wearing a mask the most, but this still doesn't stop him from being annoyed.

Perhaps it's because he remembered her before she forgot everything. Perhaps it's because he remembered a time when she wasn't always smiling.

On the fourth day of training, he smacks her face and tells her to quit looking so goddamn happy, because it's a geisha's job to look subdued in a frozen, emotionless expression, like that of a Noh mask, and her customers will grow annoyed with her (much like he is) if she's perpetually looking so _childish._ It will be her job to entice men with as little skin as possible, using only her facial expressions, and if she's lucky these men will come to fantasize about her. So he tries to teach her to express herself like water; seamless and with neverending flow. She must move from a subtle smile to a wantonness pout in a manner that would make even himself grow hard. Her eyes must always follow the expression accordingly, and if that means lowering her lids in a half-drugged daze, then so be it. She must be innocent, yet seductive, coy, albeit immodest all at the same time. For Anko, this task comes as a struggle.

Inu-sama has read over her personal file numerous times, and knows that her psychological profile is not particularly suited for undercover operations such as these. She is blunt and she is all about forth-coming strength. There is nothing decidedly subtle about her personality whatsoever, and childhood memories of a loud-mouth academy girl do nothing to solidify his faith in her. Regardless, he beats it into her, like ordered, that she is to remain silent, _at least_ while she is under his command. She can open her mouth as wide as she likes, as long as he is not around to witness her demise. Loud-mouthed chunin brats are particularly unwanted when it comes to the elusive qualities desired in a geisha. He knows she will make a poor geisha, and this is what they hope for.

Secretly, he hopes for more. His orders are to help her fail, but it doesn't make them right.

* * *

One day, Inu-sama touches Anko in a way that makes her unsure how she's supposed to feel. His fingers, pale and cold run softly down her shoulders, and he tells her she is to expect this sort of treatment. Eventually.

"Men will want to sleep with you. Your okiya will set a price for your body. You must learn to be a sensual lover. You mustn't react the way you are right now. Lean in to my touch; do not flinch. Don't close your eyes."

He takes off her shirt and fondles her pre-developed breasts, instructing Anko on the appropriate response needed to garner their attention. But like most things Inu-sama tries to teach her, Anko fares poorly in her lessons. Inu-sama's hands feel strange on her skin, like a bad memory, and she starts to cry.

Abruptly, Inu-sama stops the lesson and gives Anko back her shirt, which she clutches to her chest in what seems to be shame. With a loud crack, he leaves the room and never again after do they return to that sort of teaching. She can't see it, but behind his white dog-mask, he is slightly disturbed.

Inu-sama now knows for sure that Anko is far more broken then he could ever dream of fixing. Perhaps it's a good thing she is going to die...perhaps this will bring her mercy.

* * *

"You're name is Shizuko Furasawa," Inu-sama tells her. "You are twelve years old, born in the year of the Tiger. You are too stubborn and too sensitive to be anything else. Your parents are Arata and Tsukiko Furasawa and they are both dead. I am your keeper and I own you. I saved you from death. You are my property and I will sell you when the time is right. You came from a small village named Eiji in the land of Tsuki no Kuni, but that is unimportant and you are most likely to forget it. Like your ninjustu, your elemental affinity is _ka_, fire. You burn inside with unkempt, uncontrolled chi. Not chakra, but chi. They will see this, Anko, the women in the Miwa will see this, and they will see your energy and they will try to dose your flame in an attempt to control you. You_ must_ let them. You are not a shinobi, nor are you a kunoichi. You are malleable and weak-willed and willing to lose yourself for the sake of Konoha. You are a village girl and shinobi are to be feared and revered. You know nothing of them, nor do you display innate curiosity when they are mentioned. Remember this, Anko, otherwise you are likely to be killed."

He weaves for her an elaborate story that she is meant to wear as a disguise. He tries to make the tale as close to her real personality as possible, because quite frankly, he simply cannot image her acting as anything but herself. Hopefully, she will use this to her advantage.

Yet her real name is Anko Mitarashi. She is fourteen years old, born in the year of the Dragon. But Inu-sama thinks she is emotionally delicate (which she is) and far too obstinate for her own good (another truth), and this overshadows her (once) bossy and loud disposition (another thing Orochimaru-sama took from her). Her real parents are Renji and Mayumi Mitarashi, and they are both dead. Inu-sama does not own Anko, but he is preparing her to die. Anko came from the hidden ninja-village of Konohagakure in the land of Hi no Kuni, and that _is _important and she will never forget. Her elemental affinity is fire, but she can barely remember the techniques Orochimaru-sama taught her, lest the dull, white throbbing in her head comes back. Inside she burns with betrayal and humiliation and she is unfocused. She doesn't want to be put out, but if this mission garners her the respect of the Sandaime (which she already has, but cannot see), she will let it happen. She is a shinobi, as is she a kunoichi. Orochimaru-sama left her weak and malleable, and already she has lost herself because of Konoha. She was never a village girl and always a ninja and she knows they are to be feared and revered, both at the same time. She knows everything about shinobi, but she can't be curious because her thirst for that particular source of knowledge has already been satisfied. Anko knows all this yet does not see that she going on a mission to die.

Anko nods, and repeats the information to Inu-sama on cue.

"You are ready," Inu-sama declares. "Tomorrow, we depart."

* * *

At dawn, both Anko and Inu-sama set out from the village's west gate, wearing disguises that let the world know they are a peasant girl and a slave-trader. They head south, then south-west and at the border of Kawi no Kuni, they stop calling each other by their real names.

They pass a large river, onto which they cross a structure known as the Li Suri bridge.

"In six months time," he tells her as they cross the bridge that spans the ravine, "I will be by this river. If you are not here, I will assume it's because you have either failed your mission, or died."

Anko nods her head in understanding. She must find and assassinate her target within the specified time period. She naively believes that she will be able to do it.

As they travel the land, Anko observes it's sloping and full of jagged scars that all bled into the ocean. It is far quieter than Hi no Kuni. There are no hidden villages, and no shinobi politics to play into. But there is a daimyo and an infamous hanamachi district under his jurisdiction called the Miwa. The Miwa is full of beautiful, legendary women, with faces painted white as the moon and lips redder than any cherry blossom flourishing in the spring-time. Inu-sama says the most difficult part of the mission is ahead of them. Inu-sama must successfully sell Anko into servitude of one of the more notable okiyas, despite her age and reputable lack of training.

"Do not speak unless spoken too," Inu-sama hisses. In the dark corner of a tea-house, Anko is prodded and pushed by many fingers of old, gnarled women. Her bones are twisted, her flesh squeezed and skin pinched.

"Too old," many women lament. "Too much _ka_. Makes poor traits for a geisha."

But Inu-sama will not be deterred. A woman who smokes herbal medicine from a long, thin pipe and has a mean glint in her black, beady eyes sits across the table from Inu-sama, scrutinizing Anko like she is a lump of meat.

"She is too skinny," the woman crows. "Her arms too small. Her body is too big and there is too much _ka_ for even me to control."

"Men like skinny girls," Inu-sama fires back, his face still hidden by means of a foreigners keffiyeh. He roughly grabs Anko by the shoulder and twists her arm in a manner to show the meat on her bones. "And she may be small, but she is wiry. She'd make a good worker."

The woman smoking the pipe considers this, and strokes her sharp-looking chin.

"There is too much _chi_ in her disposition. Too much energy. She will be hard to control. I see it in her eyes."

"Then beat it out of her," Inu-sama coolly replies. "Like I have." He goes to strike Anko, and she flinches, like she is trained to.

"She is still too old."

"She is only twelve."

"She looks older."

"Shizuko!" Inu-sama snaps. His sharp obsidian eyes turn to her, probing her into a well-versed lie. "How old are you?"

Meekly, like Anko was taught to do, she raises her head ever so slightly and speaks.

"T-twelve."

The older woman stares at Anko, and her eyes narrow. Without warning, she lashes out across the table and grabs Anko by the chin, her gnarled hands cupping the girls face like a hawk would its next meal. There is no gentleness in her touch, and the women's fingers stink of talac and jasmine. Unwittingly, Anko flinches away, but the hand twists her head back in a violent manner that makes Anko want to struggle. She doesn't and the woman's beady, cruel looking eyes stare straight down her throat as if she was trying to see right inside of her.

"Tell me your real age," she demands. Her breath is like rotting nori and it makes Anko feel queasy. "And don't let your puppeteer pull your strings. I want to hear your voice, not his."

"Twelve," Anko answers like she was taught to. "I am twelve. I would not lie to you, Chiyo-basama—,"

_Thwack._

The older woman has smacked Anko across the face, leaving a trail of reddening skin in its wake.

"_Chiyo-basama_," the woman scoffs. "Such impudence from youth these days," she sneers, eying Anko like she is the leftover rice from her last meal. Her beady eyes once again fall upon Inu-sama.

"You have trained your monkey well," she informs Inu-sama. "I don't know where you got this one from, but I can see she is obedient. However do not try to hide this girl's short comings with deception and eloquently woven words. I may be old, but I am not senile and I can see this girl is nothing but a peasant girl."

"I am a fast learner!" Anko impulsively cries out. She cannot fail…this foul smelling woman is her last hope and she will _not _fail. She must complete this mission. She must garner respect. Respect. She must be adopted into an okiya. She must find Benjiro Bishamon. Will Inu-sama respect her if she kills Benjiro Bishamon? No. Maybe. She doesn't know. She doesn't even know who Inu-sama really is. However, her words earn her another slap across the face and the woman demands her silence.

"_Be quiet you urchin! I was not speaking to you!"_

Inu-sama shifts in his seat. Anko can sense from the bristle in his chakra flow that he is not pleased.

"Shizuko must learn to hold her tongue," is all Inu-sama can offer to the elder woman. His double-edged reprimand is enough for Anko to bite her tongue and drown on her blood at all costs if need be.

"Indeed."

Ashes fall from the woman's pipe, but she makes no effort to clean them off the black wood of the table.

"You present me with an interesting scenario, stranger from the North," she finally says. "With you, you bring a girl who you tell me is malleable and weak, and yet she speaks brazenly against her Elders and has a tongue that runs wild like a dog from the streets. But she is obedient, at least to you, and I can tell she is an adequate liar. But I don't like liars, little Shizuko," the woman says, her gaze falling on Anko, as expected. "The only thing this orphan has going for her is her looks," she continued on. "And sadly, I'm afraid she is nothing special here in the Miwa. She is a mere weed amongst the beautiful flowers that grow in these sacred okiyas."

"I see," Inu-sama says. Anko feels a strange sense of suffocation surrounding her. She has just got here and already her mission is at an end. Inu-sama's firm, hurtful grip grabs Anko's forearm and he violently pushes the girl up from her seat. "She is obviously not qualified enough to work under your terms of service, or anybodies terms, so I shall sell this little rat elsewhere. Come, Shizuko. Perhaps a brothel will take your miserable hide. You have been far too much trouble for me as it is, and I tire of your presence."

"_Wait_," the elder woman says, her voice smooth and slippery like that of a freshly caught fish. Her eyes are gleaming and Anko realizes this whole meeting has been nothing but a horrible game of politics that she was sadly not aware of. "I did not say I wasn't interested."

Inu-sama forces Anko back down to the floor and eyes the woman with perpetual interest, as if to challenge her belated statement.

"I will take this weed off your hands, but I will not pay full price for such an inferior little girl. I will offer you one third of your asking price, nothing more, nothing less."

Inu-sama says nothing, as if he is considering rejecting the woman's offer. But after a moment, with a look of agitation marring his partially hidden face, he snaps his jaw tightly shut and lets out what seems to sound like a growl.

She notes that Inu-sama is a wonderful actor and would probably do excellent in a situation such as hers.

"I want half," Inu-sama counters. Anko sucks in a sharp breath, as she can't believe her ears. Why would he barter when it is obvious Anko is barely wanted to begin with? But surprisingly enough, the elder simply smiles and pulls out her change purse.

"_Fine_."

Both barterers know he will not get a better offer anywhere else, even in the red-light district, and selling Anko for half of the original asking price is still a deal.

Money is exchanged and Anko is roughly shoved over to the older women whom she is now instructed to call _Okaa-san_. Mother. Inu-sama disappears from the tea-house moments later and Anko officially on her own, the mission being her top priority.

"Stupid man," Okaa-san clucks to herself, closing up her change purse. "Such a fool to let you go for such a low price."

This time, Anko wisely says nothing and awaits instruction.

"You do not realize this Shizuko," the woman tells her, "but even though you're filled with too much _ka_, men like women who have a little warmth to their bodies. When properly trained, you will bring me ten folds the amount of money I paid for you here today. You could be a pretty girl," she says cruelly, her beady eyes glinting in the lamplight, "If only we wiped that farmer's dirt from your face. But don't worry little Shizuko; that will be months from now. For now, you are nothing but my servant and what I tell you do, you will do it. I will extinguish your _ka_ and you will learn only to fan it when I say so."

That evening, Anko was so severely beat that she doubted Inu-sama could have done a better job. Naked and covered in welts from the wet bamboo rods, she curled up onto her tattered tatami mat and tried not to forget this was all for Konohagakure.

A mission for Konohagakure, an honourable favor, a _good thing._

She would find Benjiro Bishamon, a ninja who was a frequent patron of the geisha arts. She would find this man and she would kill him, or be killed.

(Because a mission for the good of the village is the most important thing, right Sensei?)

Right?

Right.


	2. Chapter 2

**Dissimulation**

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Before Mother can beat everything deemed useless out of Anko's fragile, slipping mind, she tries to remember everything there is to know about her mission. The thirteenth strike of the wet bamboo rod connects with her backside and Mother calls out another question.

"_What is your name?"_

"S-Shizuko!" Her back aches and her jaw has connected one too many times with the bloody flagstones below. Her sightlines are fuzzy. Her pain is genuine, as is her confusion.

"_And where are you from?"_

She doesn't know what Mother wants her answer to be. She doesn't know. Tears are running (slipping) down her face.

"I-_I_ don't know! I live here, Oka-san; _this _is my home!"

She hopes this answer is adequate. She can't think clearly, and doesn't know whether her character is staying true to Shizuko. There is too much pain. Somehow, it all seems familiar. Somehow, these beatings make the the white space in her mind burn with irritation, setting her forehead into a dull ache and her temples on fire. The bamboo rod strikes her backside again and she crumples to the ground.

"_How old are you?"_

"Twelve!"

Her answer comes out as a body-wracking scream and her cry echoes throughout the courtyard, sending the birds perched on the clay tile roofing into flight.

Her 'mother' seems satisfied with her answers and reminds Anko she is best not to forget these things. Still, she has not been instructed to move out of the courtyard, so she lies in the puddle of water, disorientated and dazed, waiting for Mother to come back. The truth is she is too hurt to move. She hopes that Mother does not return for quite some time.

The story Inu-sama weaved for her is slowly becoming useless. She doesn't need to know her parents' names, or the village in which she was born, nor does she need to recite the fact that she was born in the year of Tiger. Mother doesn't care about her dead parents or her razed village. She already knows Shizuko is a Tiger, and these beatings are a way to ensure she remains obedient and servile; an abused, scared animal trapped in a tiny, suffocating cage (can she remember the name of a snake-man who once did something exactly the same?) The idea of fearing shinobi also seems to be frivolous and stupid. It seems everyone in the Miwa is living in a fantasy world, and to them, ninjas are only wealthy patrons who come to buy pleasure in the hanamachi district. The women here do not imagine them as lethal killing machines, but as slightly drunken gentlemen who partake in too much sake and enjoy staring at the pale-moon faces of many geisha. Anko thinks this is a good thing, because the men here seem to think that all geisha are like porcelain dolls; they will break under the slightest touch and are far too fragile to _ever _be struck. When Anko finds Benjiro Bishamon (Benjiro, Benjiro,_ Benjiro; _remember that name), he will think of her as a fragile doll (or so she hopes), and this way it will make things easier when it comes time to kill him.

One of Mother's maids comes into the courtyard and bundles the nearly unconscious Anko in an old, worn bathrobe. The material is rough and scratchy and hurts like sandpaper against the numerous growing welts on her backside. No matter how much she swallows, she simply can't get rid of the taste of blood in her mouth. It dribbles down her chin and she spits it to the ground below. _This is for Konohagakure_, she reminds herself. _These people are cruel, but this is for the Hokage...for me, for respect_. Her goal is to find a man called Benjiro Bishamon (Benjiro, Benjiro,_ Benjiro;_ remember that name). He is a dangerous (but not too dangerous, the Hokage assured her) shinobi from Mizu no Kuni. Collaborative intelligence reports indicate that Benjiro makes frequent and routine stops in the Miwa hanamachi district of Kawa no Kuni. Apparently, he is a patron of the geisha arts and enjoys sipping sake with pale-faced women dressed in elaborate kimonos. This is his weakness. Geisha. Anko isn't sure who wants him dead, or why, but someone was willing to pay enough money to see his body slain, so she is to complete the mission regardless of her trivial questions.

The maid escorts Anko into her room, the loft above the okiya shared with two other girls like herself; girls sold into slavery with hopes and dreams of one day becoming great geishas. The one girl, Hara Mitsue, is fifteen years old. She is an apprentice geisha, and if Anko has heard correctly from listening to the walls that speak, she is a poor investment and will result in little or nothing. That is why she hasn't been given her own room yet. Her older sister, Yonezu, is far more successful and overshadows Hara like a great oak tree would a tiny sapling. The other girl is named Kaege, and like Shizuko, she is twelve. She has already started her classes, and sometimes, Mother makes Anko complete chores with her. She doesn't like Kaege and her gut instincts tell her that she is someone to be avoided. She reminds Anko of a cruel little girl she knew from the academy as a child, one that was later killed on her first mission for being too arrogant and over-confident. Perhaps it's just by the way she smiles, or that look she gets in her eyes before dutifully informing Mother she will complete her chores with ease, but Anko knows Kaege is like a docile snake waiting to strike out (because she knows all about snakes, doesn't she?), and this is some to be wary of. If she wants to complete her mission, it is best she avoids Kaege at all costs. She's not sure what the girl is capable of, but on numerous occasions, she has blamed the maids for her own misdoings. Mother actually believes her, and this is something Anko _thinks_ she should be scared of.

Hara Mitsue is not in the room, but Kaege is.

"Opening your mouth again when it should be shut?" Kaege asks. Her voice sounds kind, but there is a sick sweetness that lets Anko know Kaege is pleased with her misfortunes. Kaege will grow up to be a cruel woman who will attract equally cruel men. Or maybe Kaege will get herself killed like that little academy girl Anko once knew...

Anko crawls down onto her tattered tatami mat and feigns exhaustion, pretending to slip into sleep.

"Mother wouldn't beat you if you listened better."

Anko ignores her and clenches her stomach, which feels sick.

Her time living in the Tsuneno Okiya has melted down into two things: chores and beatings. When she is not cleaning out Mother's room, or sweeping the mats in the front entrance gateway, she is being struck by wet bamboo rods and collapsing unconscious in the courtyard. Mother tells her this is for the best. It will help control her chi, and one day will make her a good geisha, like Yonezu. Yonezu, as she has been told many, many times, is the adopted daughter of Oshima Tsuneno, Mother's most successful geisha living in the okiya. She has a kind smile and a perfect, oval face, and Anko realizes it is like Yonezu-san that Inu-sama wanted her to look like. Still, every time she is cheeky with one of the maids, or even _tries _to emulate a smile, Anko is struck by the bamboo rods again and again.

Anko thinks Mother must want her to be miserable. She remembers Inu-sama telling her to let the women in the Miwa extinguish her fire, and so, despite wanting to fight back (like she knows she can...she knows she could _easily _kill Mother and break that wooden bamboo rod into _pieces_), she takes the beatings and cries like a little girl. She cries like Shizuko would, because Anko (Anko, remember?) would never cry.

A month after first arriving at the okiya, Mother comes to Anko and informs her she is ready to start classes. Anko does not smile or even look remotely happy at this prospect. She simply nods her head in a sign of respect like broken Shizuko (Anko) would.

"Arigatou, Oka-san. I am grateful for this opportunity."

This answer pleases her Mother and Shizuko (Anko) avoids a beating.

_5 months, 0 days_

She is one step closer to completing her mission.

* * *

True to her word, Anko is a relatively fast learner. She strives for success, because she knows time is limited and time is something she does _not_ have. Six months, remember? Six months. She must find her way back to Li Suri Bridge in six months. Inu-sama will be waiting. Maybe, under that dog-mask face of his, he'll even crack a smile. So Anko pays close attention to the old women at the Izanami School of Patron Arts. However, unlike her time at the ninja academy, she does not rise quickly through the ranks, and nor is she top of her class. Things such as throwing shuriken and learning taijutsu came easily to Anko, but learning to play the shamisen and dancing do not. She plays her three-stringed instrument adequately, but not well enough to be noticed by her superiors. Her actions during traditional tea-cermony are performed with minimal mistakes, but with still too many to warrant any sort of recognition. She likes tea-cermony, but sadly, cannot excel at it. At one point, one of teachers accidently knocks a priceless tea-cup from the high-set Westerner table they were practising on, and without meaning to, Anko bends her body in a quick dive and catches the cup before it has even hit the ground. Not a drop is spilled. Not. A. Drop.

This act seems to stun her teachers, and with unprecedented nervousness, Anko laughs (realizing her mistake, because she should have just let the teacup drop, drop, drop...where, oh where, did she ever get such quick reflexes?) and quickly explains she couldn't let such a thing of beauty go to waste. She almost wants to gag when she hears herself speak, but smiles with earnest despite the fact that her teachers (and classmates) are still staring at her, and still wondering how she barely moved and caught the cup so quickly. Despite this, one of her elderly teachers, Ms. Ming-Ming, tells her she was never meant to be like an eloquent lotus flower, and pretending that she is like an oxen pretending to be a swan. This is meant as an insult, and Anko secretly wonders if Kaege has told her classmates that she came from a farmer's family and is nothing but dirt. Ms. Ming-Ming seems to think so, because everytime she is in the old hag's presence, her nose wrinkles in detest as if she has smelt something most utterly foul. Anko refuses to resort to any easy, petty remarks (because there are a thousand things she could say about Ms. Ming-Ming, but knows she shouldn't. Could an oxen catch a falling teacup, Mrs. Ming-Ming? No.) and accepts Ms. Ming-Ming's criticism silently. Inside, she burns with anger. But Shizuko doesn't burn with anger; Shizuko is afraid of another beating. So she nods her head and moves on to her next class. She also learns things such as flower arrangement and proper kimono coordination in accordance to the season and weather. Most of these things she finds dull and boring, but they stick to her brain like glue. They seem to fill the white empty space in mind more rapidly than she cares to realize. When she thinks of which pale silk fabric would go best for the Spring-Cherry-Blossom Festival, it distracts her from the familiar questions that arbitarily pop into her mind. _Why? Why did he leave me? Why am_ I_ the traitor? What have I done?_ Sometimes, she dreams at night of things truly frightening and wonders if she really wants to know... so she arranges flowers and practises her shamisen, plucking away at the strings and letting herself become annoyed with her lack of talent. While learning all these things, she becomes so immersed in the process that she almost forgets the real reason why she was there (because sometimes it's nice to think she really is working towards being a geisha, and not a ninja...not someone who was betrayed, someone who can't remember). Yet at the end of everyday, she sees Kaege and hears Kaege's cruel tongue and knows these girls with whom she is forging friendships with will only last until the moment she kills Benjiro Bishamon (Benjiro, Benjiro, _Benjiro_; remember that name) and then she can go home. It's strange because home suddenly seems so far away and distant, while her life here seems genuine and true. Perhaps it's just because there is no one yelling at her...people don't leer at her in the streets and there hasn't been a single muffled whisper aimed in her direction in weeks. In the back of her mind, she tells herself she will be grateful when Benjiro dies, because these old women who teach her the art of calligraphy and properly lettered kanji are incredibly stifling and uptight. Deep down, she wants nothing more than to burst out laughing when old Ms. Ming-Ming picks her nose in secret. Deep down, she wants to slap Kagae across the face and fight back. Deep down, pretending to be the subdued, beaten Shizuko is not really her. Deep down, she is still Anko (loud-mouthed, obnoxious Anko, remember?), but after Orochimaru-sama and after Inu-sama and after Oshime-Oka-san, it's easier to be Shizuko than herself. No smiling, no laughter, speaking only when spoken to. Hopefully, when she goes home, there will be something she can laugh at again. Hopefully.

There is only one thing that Anko truly excels at, and that is dance. Even old Ms. Ming-Ming seems to notice this. The precision and memorization and bodily technique required for properly dancing is something Anko is rather proficient at. The movement reminds her of taijutsu. This makes it easy for her. She pretends she is training (hard and long, like she used to) and submerses herself in the process. The way she arranges herself in accordance to the particular style of music is uncanny (sort of like preparing her kunai blades for battle), as is her precise steps which make her movements seem flawless. The way she extends her arm in order to greet her audience is deliberate, yet sensual. She never falters when it comes to the next step, and idea of adding dramatics to the dance comes easily to her. For a newcomer to dancing, her teachers tell her she is a natural. To Anko, dancing is a substitute for her lack of practise when it comes to her ninja-arts. If she becomes good at dancing, will she stay good at taijutsu? (No, but she can only hope). Another thing has also happened. Anko's chest is beginning to blossom and some of the girls at school snigger that her blooms seem to be coming in larger than most. Mother hears of her success and finds this relatively interesting.

"I hear you are doing well in school, Shizuko. You've also filled in rather..._nicely_. Perhaps dancing could be your center-piece..." She mutters this incoherently one day while Anko sweeps out her room. Of course, Anko says nothing, pretending that she does not hear Mother, because listening when she should not be is means for another beating. "Yonezu was fairly practised as well when it came to ceremonial dance. Men fell into lust-filled dazes when she moved about and around them like a cooing dove. Perhaps you too could do the same. I'll need to find you a sister more quickly than expected. Until then..."

Anko still hears, but says nothing. As she is expected to. As Shizuko. Shizuko, not Anko. Anko who?

_4 months, 6 days_

* * *

After a while, Anko realizes that even with her dancing, she is withering away. There is no time to train while living in the Tsuneno okiya. There is school and chores and beatings. Nothing else. Anko lives under the scrutiny of Mother's watchful eyes and that of her two maids, Nao and Natsumi. Anything Anko does that is not what Mother wants, Mother knows of. And while it is either Nao or Natsumi who bundle up Anko in rough robes and layers of soft cotton after she is beaten to the ground, and it is either Nao or Natsumi who carry her back to her room and mend her bruises (upon bruises, upon bruises), she can't help but feel contempt for the two women. She never responds to their kind words and encouraging dialogues, for it is them who have inadvertently done this to her. Nao and Natsumi. Nao and Natsumi. How she hates Nao and Natsumi. And, of course, there is always Kaege. Kaege who sits with a picture-perfect smile (a smile of a geisha, Mother tells Anko), playing her shamisen, preparing eloquent bouquets of weeds plucked from the garden, finishing her chores (somehow, she is_ always _done before Anko), or sometimes just sitting there and doing nothing at all. Just watching. As Anko scrubs the dirty stone walkways in the courtyard (washing away her own blood), she can't help but feel uncomfortable with Kaege's cool, off-coloured eyes studying her every move. Sometimes, she can even sense her laughing.

Anko wonders what the girl finds so funny, because there is certainly nothing humorous in the way in which washes the walkways. Perhaps Kaege sees something Anko does not...perhaps, Anko thinks, Kaege is just mean.

The weeks slip by, and, with her best effort, Anko ignores Kaege. It isn't easy, but eventually, she can pretend Kaege isn't there. She can also feel her muscles melting, her once-prevalent strength slipping away. There is something strange in knowing how weak you are becoming, but at the same time being unable to do anything about it. Powerless. She is weak and powerless and this scenerio is like her life on repeat. When she is sent on errands into the Miwa district (freedom, sweet freedom from Mother's watchful eyes), she plucks old, rotting bamboo skewers from the stands by street vendors and throws them in alleyways when she thinks no one is watching. Her aim, while still adequate, is faulty. She can no longer hit her target dead on, and with a feeling of dread and growing trepidation, she knows she needs to practise. But time to practise is something she does not have (only six months remember? _Six months_ to find and kill Benjiro Bishamon) and returning late with Mother's papers is not worth the beating she will receive. She wonders if she will still be strong enough when she finds her target...

With her muscles melting away like sugar left out in the rain, Anko also begins to wonder if she will ever taste anything delicious ever again. She is starving. While Yonezu and her little sister Hara Mitsue are prepared elaborate plates onigiri with pickled plum centers and delicate platters of fresh sashimi, Anko receives nothing but bowls of plain, white rice. The bland, sticky texture leaves little to be desired, and after a month of eating nothing but bowls upon bowls of rice, her stomach cries out for more. But Mother seems pleased to give Shizuko such boring (nutritionally void) food, and so, if mother is happy, Shizuko is happy (but miserable as Anko). She salivates at the thought of something with flavor and longs for the streets of Konoha where street vendors sold steaming plates of dorayaki and sweet dumplings on sticks. Sugar is something she hasn't tasted in what seems like forever, and so with every meal of plain, meagre rice, an innate longing grows.

On top of everything else, she is losing weight.

Feeling inadequate and confused with her body (because everything is shrinking, except for her chest), in the early hours of morning, long before anyone else in the okiya awakes, Anko creeps from her mat in the loft and escapes into the silent atrium of the courtyard. Her heart is racing, and her breath uneasy, but with little hesitation, she begins to recite the kata's required for basic bodily taijutsu. She must do this. She _must_. She is losing herself (personally and physically), but she is trying to save the little bit she has left. The steps come easily to her, but, as she extends her right arm forward, and shifts her legs in swift, body jarring movement, locking them in place, there is something missing; a difficulty in her sweeping steps that used to come to her like the flow of water. For the first time since she was in the academy, she has to perform the kata, not with unchecked, free-flowing, mindless movement, but from memory. Moving into the second routine of hebi-style taijustu, her feet feel the ground beneath her and shift in agitation. Her chakra isn't flowing like it should it; there is no strength left in her footfall. She is slowly becoming inept.

A voice calls out from the sandalwood doorway leading into the kitchen and, immediately, Anko drops her stance.

"What are you doing?"

Kaege's voice is so innocent and genuinely confused that Anko is almost tempted to tell her the truth. But she doesn't, and, without hesistation, begins to lie like Shizuko would. But she's nervous (because she's a peasant girl, remember, not a ninja, never a ninja, Anko who?), and why would she know something like hebi-style taijutsu? So she laughs, kindly and with embarrassment and scratches her head in earnest. Kaege doesn't respond and simply stands there holding her cup of water and waits.

"Gomen nasai, Kaege-chan. Did I wake you?"

"No," the girl replies. "But I was thirsty and came down for some water."

"Oh."

Anko is dumbfounded. Kaege's story seems sound. But the story she is about to tell is not. The lie she is forming in head is still coming together, and she's not sure if it's sufficient enough to fool Kaege.

"What were those steps you were doing?" Kaege asks. "Is that some sort of dance they teach at school? I don't remember learning it..."

Kaege's voice sounds naive and childish, but her eyes dart wildly between Anko and the space between them and Anko knows Kaege is not someone to be trusted. So she laughs, Anko laughs (with fear and frayed nerves), not Shizuko, and offers the girl an explanation. A quick, mind-racing, heart-pounding explanation that would make Inu-sama and all his wisdom shake his masked face in shame. She is not a good liar and is far too good when it comes to brandishing the truth. So she tells Kaege a story. A nice, easy story. She was on her way to the fish market, with an errand from Mother (Mother wanted to see if there was any fresh Fugu fish for her favorite dish). She ran into a samurai, not a ninja, but a samurai, from the daimyo's castle! (How impressive, how lucky!) He was chasing a criminal who had stolen from a fish monger (for he was noble and interested in doing a good deed). Entranced by the beauty of his fighting style (for he was fighting in the streets), she was sure she could mimic it and show the teachers from the school in hopes of impressing them (she's a good dancer, remember? She likes to dance.) That is why she was practising hebi-style taijutsu in the early hours of the morning in the okiya courtyard. That is why she was doing what she should not be and that is why she is weaving this elaborate (poorly-strung-together) lie for Kaege.

If Kaege doesn't believe her, then she's not sure what she'll do. Shizuko would cry. Anko...well, Anko just might kill her.

"I see," is all Kaege has to say when Anko is finished. Her face is all scepticism, but she sips her water quietly and does not move. "Well it looked...interesting. I won't tell Mother that you were down here this morning, but you'll have to do my chores for the afternoon instead."

With an acute numbness, Anko (Shizuko) agrees. She follows Kagae back up into the loft and, with her body shaking, tries to fall back asleep. She hopes Kaege really doesn't tell Mother, but at the same time knows she should be hoping for more. She knows going down to practise her taijustu was a stupid thing to do, and prays to the all mighty Kami above that Kaege believed her story. Because if Kaege knows something...well, let's just hope that Kaege doesn't know.

_

* * *

_

Yonezu Yorie Tsuneno is the adopted daughter of Oshime Tsuneno. She has lived in the okiya since she was a little girl, her own mother being a geisha who had died of sickness when Yonezu was only four. In the Miwa, she is known for her perfect smile and charging phenomenal amounts of money for her time and services at each tea-house. But men are more than willing to pay her prices, if only to get a glimpse of her flawless face and dream that each smile she flaunts is meant for them and them alone. In a way, Yonezu is sort of a legend. She is only twenty, but still unspeakably gorgeous while managing to retain airs of her feminine youth. At the same time, she is one of the most requested geisha in all of hanamachi district, leaving little to be said about how quickly she had risen to fame.

It is Oshime Tsuneno's intentions that Yonezu tutor Anko in the way of ceremonial dance. Unlike Anko, Yonezu excels in all areas of study, but Oshime hopes that if Anko becomes as good at dancing as Yonezu is, perhaps some of her patrons would begin to favour Anko as well. Of course, Anko is months away from actually debuting, but Anko, like most things in life, is blind to everyone's intentions towards her, and does not know this. Anko does not know how little time she really has...six months is far too short a time. Just time enough to die. Instead, she is secretly pleased with the fact that things are progressing so _smoothly_. Kagae had said nothing to Mother about the incident in the courtyard and for a while, Shizuko (Anko) does all of Kagae's chores. So when nobody is looking, Anko smiles. And sometimes, even when people _are_ looking, she smiles as well.

That is, until things start to go wrong.

A rumour spreads throughout the okiya that Mother plans to make a proposition to Kiyowara Ikeda. She wants Shizuko be taken under the wing of Kiyowara and have her adopt Shizuko as her "little-sister". Kiyowara is a very famous geisha with as much accolade as Yonezu, if not more. If Kiyowara is made Shizuko's older sister, then, without a doubt, she will be carried along to all the famous tea-houses in the hanamachi district to which Kiyowara visited. If this comes to pass, Anko will be able to find Benjiro Bashimon in no time whatsoever. The thought of this makes her very happy, outwardly so, and certain other occupants in the okiya begin to notice. Some might even say her happiness could be mistaken for smugness, if looking through the wrong set of poorly-constructed glasses.

The first time something goes wrong, Anko isn't all too sure what happened. She is summoned into Mother's bedroom and angrily berated for leaving her muddy sandals in the middle of the tatami mats in the entrance hall. It is shameful, she is told, but she isn't beaten and lets Mother yell at her with endless onslaught. She apologizes profusely, and is unwilling to speak back. Shizuko does not protest to things she has done wrong. She does not tell Mother that she hasn't even left the okiya that day and goes to finish her chores in silence.

The second time something happens, Anko is beat for destroying a priceless calligraphy scroll that had been hanging up in the sitting room. Anko had left a candle unattended and it was by the grace of Kami that Kaege had discovered the burning scroll when she did, otherwise the whole okiya would have gone up in flames. Anko accepts the beating and cries heavily, like Shizuko would, but says nothing about the candle or the sitting room she has not stepped foot in since last Thursday.

By the end of the month, the mistakes Anko are making are uncountable. She had left the rice bag on the floor in the kitchen and rats had made away and spoiled enough rations for a week. Her shamisen was found out in the courtyard during a rainstorm and the wood was cracked and now the horse-hair strings are rotting. Empty sake bottles were continuously found laying about the okiya and neither Yonezu or Hara Mitsue knew who they belonged to. The only answer is Shizuko. Mother even goes as far as blaming Shizuko for a kimono that was covered in droplets of wet pigment paste from one of Yonezu's cosmetics, found stuffed in her living quarters. By now, she can't help but plead in vain, openly and defiantly, and claim that these screw ups were a mistake...she isn't the one to blame. She _knows_ she isn't. Someone is setting her up.

"Perhaps all this attention has gone to her head..." one of the teachers suggests to Mother when told about Shizuko's continuous errors.

Knowing that speaking out against her Mother is only going get her another beating, she says nothing. Yet she is still determined to put an end to all her 'mistakes'. There is only one answer...only one person to go to.

She seeks out Kaege instead.

Their room is dark and quiet, and Kaege lays sleeping on the mat by the thatched window near the crack in the wall. Anko enters the room silently, and without meaning to, realizes that Kaege is not sleeping, but awake, and awaiting for her.

"I know it's you," she says simply. "I know you're the one making all this trouble fo me. Stop it or I'll tell Mother."

Anko would have gone up and grabbed Kaege by the tattered collar of her night-shirt and threatened her stop, but Anko is not Anko, but Shizuko. Shizuko is not violent. Shizuko is desperate and Shizuko is scared.

Kaege rolls over and smiles at Anko like she has so many times before and blinked.

"Mother wouldn't believe you. Mother thinks you've turned into a drunk. You're too ugly to be Kiyowara's little sister and I see how you're always biting your tongue when Mother tells you to do more chores. Especially when you do _my_ chores. You don't like it here, do you? Mother beats you, but when she's done, you still look like you're willing to get up and fight."

This is not the answer Anko had been expecting. This answer...it is strange. Like Kaege has been watching her far too much and with eyes sharper than a hawk. Perhaps she shouldn't have ignored Kaege for so long...perhaps she should have been watching back.

"I like living in the okiya very much," she tells Kaege, her breath stifled and somewhat uncontrolled. "This is my home."

"This is your home because Mother tells you it's your home. She's right you know; you're a very good dog. But I'm a better one," Kaege simpers. She sits up on the mat and her smile widens. "I'm here because I want success. I'm smarter than you, Shizuko. And you know that, don't you? Why do you think Mother believes me and not you? You're here because Mother sees profit in your chest, not because of the brain in your head."

Kaege's cool, brown eyes sweep over Anko and, somehow, they scare Anko more then they should. Somehow, she knows her mission is now in danger. Inadvertently, she has somehow angered Kaege, and she isn't sure how to avoid the young girl's wrath. Anko has what Kaege wants and the only way to appease her is to exchange places. But Anko can't let that happen. This is for Konohagakure...for the Hokage...for herself. She values her own happiness far more than Kaege's any day.

"I'm here because I want to be a geisha," she finally says, unable to think of any appropriate response that wouldn't break character.

"Liar."

The conversation between them comes to a stand-still. Kaege smiles, and Anko stares at the cruel girl with some sort of innate fear. It is like Kaege can see right through her.

"_Just_...stop it, or I'll tell Mother," Anko repeats once again. It is her only mantra and her only defence. She's desperate. She cannot touch Kaege physically (because she isn't a ninja right now, she is Shizuko, just Shizuko...not Anko), nor can she outwit her mentally. If Kaege goes on the way she is, then Mother will reconsider her position as Kiyowara's little sister. She needs Kiyowara like a fish needs water; without her, Anko will never find Benjiro Bashimon.

"_Stop it, or I'll tell Mother_," Kaege mimicks. "What are you doing to do, Shizuko? Kill me?" she taunts. "It's not like you're, _oh_, let's say a ninja or something who can actually hurt me. You're just some dirty little peasant girl from a farmer's country. Weak and stupid. Ugly too."

Anko is sure Kaege means those words jokingly, in a mean, twisted sense, but the moment she clenches her fist and says nothing, simply staring at Kaege with hateful eyes, she knows she has made a mistake. Her anger has gotten the best of her. Inadvertently, she wishes at that moment Mother was there to beat her with a stick. Her _ka_ is burning with uncontrollable danger and Anko feels like her skin is peeling off. Kaege's eyes widen to the size of saucers. Still, Anko says nothing. Kaege knows. Kaege _knows_. But stupid Kaege doesn't realize how petty her attempts to humiliate Shizuko are the grand scheme of things...stupid Kaege! Anko doesn't care about Kiyowara or being a geisha or any of these things! She takes a step forward, and realizes how lethal her anger really is. All of this...all of this is so she can go home. Her chakra is uncontrolled, rolling off her with killing intent and radiating around the room. Kaege has stopped smirking and is looking at Anko with uncertain eyes. She unclenches her fist and Kaege flinches.

"_Stop it_," she says to Kaege one last time. This time, it sounds like a threat, not a feeble request from Shizuko. "_Or I'll tell Mother_."

Kaege nods, but as she does, something else happens. Anko takes a step back and exhales. She has to calm down. Yet this is a bad thing. This makes Kaege smile. Again. Her sick, sweet, cruel, vindictive smile. She is now certain Shizuko will not hit her. Because Shizuko can't hit her...not without being Anko. And with this certainty, her confidence is returning.

"You stop it," Kaege suddenly says, her sharp eyes flitting from Anko's trembling hands to her unsteady head. "Or _I'll _tell Mother." Yes, Kaege knows. She knows something, which is worse than anything in the whole wide world.

Anko sucks in a sharp breath of air and Kaege's smile looks as though it just might crack her face in half. _You could kill her_, a voice reasons inside of her. _You could snap her neck or poison her with your calligraphy pens_. _Summon a snake and have it eat her alive..._Instead, she turns on her heels and flees from the room like a child might after they know they've done something incredibly wrong. She is almost in tears as she stumbles down the last step of the staircase and from the loft she can hear Kaege's cruel laughter.

"You're a liar, Shizuko Furasawa!" Kaege calls after her. "And everybody knows how Mother hates liars! You don't know it, but Mother hates shinobi even more!"

Things are beginning to fall apart, and Anko isn't even sure how it had started to happen. Kaege's laughter doesn't leave her head. She stumbles out into the courtyard and trips on the flagstones, scraping her knees into a bloody mess.

This is what the Council wants. This is where Anko starts her descent to die.

* * *

_3 months, 18 days_


	3. Chapter 3

**Dissimulation**

**Chapter 3**

**

* * *

**

Kaege is evil, that much Anko has decided. There is no excuse, no reason (other than jealousy and hate) for her actions. Kaege is evil. She is evil, she is evil, she is evil. Anko repeats this to herself daily and tries to justify her growing contempt for the girl. Deep down, Anko knows she is being childish. Kaege is selfish, _not _evil. If truth be told, Anko is selfish too. Kaege however, is simply ruthless and without inclination of sympathy for others. If Kaege was a ninja, Anko thinks she would make a formidable foe. However, Kaege is not a ninja, just a girl (a simple_ little_ girl) and therefore, she is far more dangerous than any shinobi foe. Especially when she is Shizuko.

Kaege knows. What Kaege knows, Anko does not. But she knows _something._ She knows Anko is not a peasant girl. Nor is she a farmer's daughter from Tsuki no Kuni (if Anko was honest with herself, she knows she wouldn't be able to point this country out on a map. Why didn't Inu-sama show her these things? Where is the village of Eiji? What did she farm?) She knows Anko is a shinobi. She knows Anko is pretending to be something that she is not. Kaege knows this, and as always, Kaege is smiling.

So Anko walks around the okiya as if the floors are made of priceless porcelain plates. Every step must be walked with caution, otherwise, the poorly constructed facade she (Inu-sama) has crafted for herself will shatter. Each day is a struggle. Each day, she watches and waits, jumping in agitation every time Kaege opens her pretty, perfect mouth, sweetly telling Mother her choirs are complete, that she has weeded the garden, that she has even gone as far as helping the cook make Mother's favourite dish. Kaege is a master of deception, and Mother does not see this. Mother does not see how evil Kaege his, how horrible Kaege is, and how destructive she will be. Mother is blind.

If Anko (Shizuko) is the abused and beaten animal, caged and cowering, then Kaege is the vicious, untameable street dog whose mouth would surely bite the hand that feeds. Anko thinks Mother will regret believing Kaege one day, but again, this is a kind lie she feeds herself in order to bear her own consciousness.

On the fifth day of introverted silence (do not talk, Anko. Do not confront Kaege. Be quiet, _be quiet!_ Do as you are told. Remember Inu-sama's teachings. Can you remember?), Anko realizes the mistakes she is making will not stop (because Kaege will not stop, never, ever, _ever_), and that her mission is doomed. She cannot stop Kaege, lest Kaege tells Mother what she knows. All she can do is be subservient and wait. And hope. And pray to Kami-sama that Mother makes her Kiyowara's little sister despite all of her apparent shortcomings.

But if there is one thing that Anko should know, it is that hope is a dangerous thing.

(Hoping for acceptance, hoping for respect, hoping, hoping, always hoping...have her dreams ever come true? No.)

Things keep going wrong, and Shizuko (Anko) keeps accepting the punishment from Mother.

Kaege is still smiling.

Anko is not.

* * *

"You missed a spot," Kaege coos from over Anko's shoulder. "Right. _There_." Her fingers, like pale, feathery worms weave their way towards the black lacquered surface of the low set tea table. She grins and presses her finger firmly against the grain of the wood, twisting her finger with violent pretenses. Then, with deliberate slowness, she makes a trailing mark with her greasy fingertips, freshly covered in palm wax. Anko's cloth quickly covers the spot, polishing the fresh imprint of Kaege's finger tips into the wood. The smudge disappears, but Anko's annoyance does not. The more Anko's cloth swishes across the black table top, the more Anko wants to snap Kaege's neck. She could do it, she contemplates. Right here, right now. Nobody is around. Natsumi and Nao are out on errands to the market place, the cook is sifting rice through a vinegar solution down by the cellars and mother is taking her afternoon nap. Yonezu is out at the tea-houses. So is Hara Mitsue. They are completely alone.

Her fingers twitch. All her problems could be ended at this very moment. But her mission is not to kill Kaege. Her mission is to kill Benjiro Bishamon. Still, Anko remains mute, unwilling to provoke Kaege into doing anything lethal and continues to polish wooden surface as instructed, waiting for Mother to wake up. Kaege on the other hand, has found herself placated with infinite boredom. This means she has nothing better to do than lounge around the tea-hall and watch as Anko does her chores.

"I hear Yonezu talk about you all the time, Shizuko," Kaege offers from her perch by the sliding panel door. Her smooth, round lips emulate a look of serenity and she smiles as she says this. Anko's heart flutters slightly, excited by the prospects of Yonezu's acknowledgement. However, her confidence is deflated with sensibility when she notices that Kaege's serenity can be easily mistaken for boredom, and without having to affirm anything, she knows that what Kaege is going to say will be lies.

"She says your hair shines like meal-worms, and that you remind her of a pet dog her mother once had...such a sweet thing for Yonezu to say about you, yes Shizuko?"

"Yes," Anko replies, with wise insight into Kaege's attempts at humiliating her again. Conservations like this have happened many times between them before, and Anko has learned it is better to remain silent than to attempt to ward off any of Kaege's verbal advances. "How kind."

Kaege seems to think Anko takes these compliments seriously, and her smooth smile turns sharp. She flounces back across the room, kneeling next to Anko and without hesitation, grabs a handful of Anko's straight, limp hair and runs her fingers through it. Since coming to the Miwa, Mother has forbid any sort of elaborate hair styling, so her normal pony-tail is not allowed. Day in and day out, her hair remains flat and falling to her shoulders, reminding Anko of why she always wore it up to begin with. It's troublesome and as Kaege likes to point out, rather flat.

"Yes, Yonezu is most certainly right!" she chides in excitement. Further inspection reveals more and more delight. "Your hair _does_ shine like meal-worms! So pretty! The men will _die _for it."

Anko knows Kaege is mocking her, but Anko is nothing but Shizuko, a simple peasant girl who knows nothing of subtle forms of sarcasm. She also knows Kaege is trying to provoke her into doing something she might regret. Which is why she is chanting a mantra, over and over again, inside her head. Kaege is evil. Kaege is evil. She must be like a Noh-mask, emotionless and frozen. She mustn't let Kaege beat her. When Anko lowers her head (to hide her frustration and growing agitation, to focus her attention back on the surface of the ebony table top) Kaege squeals with girlish glee, flapping her arms straight to her side.

"You're blushing, aren't you?"

More mockery. More sarcasm. This idea seems to delight Kaege in ways unfathomable. Anko's frustration does nothing but please Kaege and Anko can't help think what a cruel girl she is.

"Do not tease me, Kaege-chan," Anko mutters. Her annoyance plays off nicely and Kaege smiles, settling back down beside Anko with an ethereal smugness permeating from her off-coloured brown eyes. Anko wants nothing more than to hit this girl, but continues to rub her cloth on the table-top, polishing the same spot for the thousandth time. Where is Mother? Never more has she desired for her presence with such longing...

"I hear Mother is planning on selling Hara Mitsue to another okiya..."

Kaege prattles on, and Anko begins to go over the steps of taijutsu in her head, one by one, step by step. Be calm. Ignore Kaege. Remember the mission.

"...the maids have been whispering about it for days. Yesterday, Hara cried the whole evening and even left a tea-house early, telling her patrons she was ill with stomach pains. Nobody believed her of course...they all know what's going on...she's depressed...she hates it here..."

Such a cruel girl, Anko thinks again. Perhaps she will die, perhaps...

"...if Hara Mitsue is sold, then Yonezu will need a new sister. And who do you think that will be, hmm, Shizuko?"

With more force than necessary, Kaege pokes Anko in the ribs, forcing her to look up from the table. It seems Kaege is fishing for compliments, and perhaps fanciful answers that will help her sleep at night (because Kami knows her conscious isn't clear...)

"I said, and who do you think that will be, _hmm_,Shizuko?"

"Certainly not I," she tells Kaege. "My worm-meal hair is nothing compared to that of Yonezu's."

Her answer confuses Kaege, as if she can't determine whether she has just insulted herself or the great Yonezu. Her face contorts into a brazen look, and she shrugs.

"Mother thinks it's time I made my debut," Kaege says. "I think I'd make a _perfect _sister for Yonezu, don't you?"

Anko says nothing, mutely biting her tongue and wishing Kaege to be gone from her sight.

"Well," says Kaege when she realizes Anko is refusing to comment on the subject. She lowers her voice to a sharp whisper. "You certainly won't be chosen to debut with Yonezu, will you?"

Anko stops polishing the wood table and listens to the pleasurable malice in Kaege's voice.

"Or, more likely...you won't be chosen to debut with _Kiyowara_."

Silence.

"Tell me, Shizuko," Kaege continues to say. "What's it like knowing that mother thinks you actually _are_ a stupid farm girl? A drunk, stupid farm girl who is uncoordinated and a big mess?"

She examines her nails as if they fascinate her, before she grins and looks back at Anko.

"I'll tell you a secret, Shizuko...you won't be made into Kiyowara's little sister," she smiles. "You won't even be made into a geisha."

Anko doesn't ask why or how Kaege knows this, but it seems the girl can't stop herself. She continues and goes on.

"I'll tell you what I've _really _heard. Hara Mitsue is a terrible geisha, but you, Shizuko, are a terrible investment. You keep breaking things. You destroy Mother's property. You talk back. Mother wouldn't dare try and introduce you to any of her clients. You'd scare them all away with your big mouth and stubborn tendencies. It isn't Hara Mitsue who Mother will be selling first; it's you."

Anko sits up straight and looks Kaege in the eyes. She isn't lying. Her face is perfectly calm and her lips poised into a delightful grin.

"And do you know where Mother sells her bad investments to?"

"Shut up, Kaege."

"She sells them to—,"

"I said shut up."

Kaege smirks, her eyes wandering to both Anko and the archway beyond the room. Someone is shuffling down the hallway.

"Don't worry," she coos, her voice back to being serene and fooling. Mother has woken up from her nap and Kaege wouldn't dare bear her fangs in front of her. "You'll find out soon enough. You're only one big mistake away from Mother sending you away. The walls speak, Shizuko, and if you listen hard enough you can hear them whispering about your future. It isn't very nice."

* * *

Like Kaege says, Anko is not made into Kiyowara's little sister. No. Hara Mitsue is not sold either, and so it is Kaege who takes the honor of debuting into the world of patron arts of geisha under the wing of Kiyowara Ishida. And so while Kaege wears elaborate robes of silk and gold, her hair coiffed with wax and bundled into elaborate patterns atop her head, with cheeks white as the moon and lips red like bleeding cherries, Anko remains in the okiya, washing walls and floors and pots and pans.

With Kaege preoccupied with so many engagements, the mistakes Anko make are reduced to a minimal. But her reputation is irreversibly damaged. Mother does not trust her to do anything but remain servile and clean her dirty laundry. Her classes at the Patron Arts school are reduced to a few hours a week, and even then, messages are sent to the school from the okiya requesting her to return early in favour of more chores.

Anko is slowly seeing that what Kaege said is true. She will not be made into a geisha. Mother is taking steps to remove all efforts made into her investment. Within two weeks' time, Anko is not attending any classes at all and Mother announces that Anko, in order to pay back her failed schooling, will be working off her debt as a maid to the okiya. Not a geisha. A maid. Nao and Natsumi looked pleased with this prospect. They tell Anko life as a maid isn't all that bad. It's enjoyable. Working for someone as esteemed as Mother is a privilege. But Anko was never meant to be a maid and finds little condolence in their words.

She is getting desperate and needs to think of a new plan.

Nothing strikes her as the intelligent thing to do. The only option in order to escape this servitude would be to run away, and even then, she is left with nothing to go on. She still doesn't know where Benjiro is. Mother might even come looking for her. But sitting around the okiya and scrubbing stone walkways is a waste of time, and so, it is decided, against her better judgement, that she is must escape.

It is only her and Hara Mitsue who sleep in the loft now, and on a quiet evening with the whole of the okiya sleeping, Anko creeps from her tatami mat and descends from the staircase. From behind her a body stirs.

A bleary, tired voice whispers out to her in the dark.

"Shizuko..._where_...where are you going?"

She knows Hara Mitsue is not a threat. The poor girl can barely look at mother without crying. Her life has become miserable here at the okiya, and in the past few weeks of sharing the loft with her alone, Anko almost thinks of her as an ally.

"Away." Poor Hara Mitsue. Poor girl. But if she tries to stop her, Anko will silence her, by death or other means. "Please don't tell, Hara... "

"Mother..." Her voices shakes. "Mother will be angry. But I wish I had your courage..."

Anko is almost tempted to let the older girl come with her, to say 'Come with me', but this isn't real life and she isn't _really _running away. So she says nothing and descends the staircase in silence, whispering her silent goodbyes.

She is sure to be quiet; her whole life she has been practised in the art of stealth and deception, and so running away should be easy. But the okiya is too silent, and the floorboards too loud and after months of heavy footfalls and pretending to be meek and stupid Shizuko, she realizes her stealth is all but almost gone. Regardless, she moves on and tries her hardest not to be heard.

She grabs a cloth bag filled with supplies stolen earlier in the day that she stashed in floral vase, and in her last moments of fleeting escape, quickly slides her feet into a pair of straw sandals in the entry hall. She is glad to be rid of this place. Of Mother. Of Kaege. Of Nao and Natsumi. All of them are horrible and none of them have helped her whatsoever on her mission.

The front gateway is locked, like it always is, and from her bag, Anko quickly pulls a dulled shearing blade taken from the kitchen. She jams the knife into the lock, intent on destroying the inner workings of the mechanisms, and twists. The inner mechanics of the lock grind, but the lock does not open. She turns the blade again.

A voice seeks her out in the darkness.

"I thought ninja were supposed to be the epitome of stealth."

There is no mistaking the taunting drawl, and Anko tenses. Freeze. Kaege.

Anko turns and—

A knife. Kaege is holding a knife to her back. How did she not notice her? How... she reaches for the shears jammed in the lock, but the blade poised to kill comes closer.

"Move and I'll scream," Kaege whispers. "Move, and I'll hurt you. Don't touch _anything_. You've done it this time, Shizuko. Mother will sell you for sure. "

So Anko does not move. She thinks.

"You are _so_ stupid," Kaege whispers. "Did you think no one would notice you sneaking around the okiya, stealing Mother's belongings? _I _did. I saw you hide the sack in the vase in the entrance hallway. I _knew_ you were going to run away."

And still, Anko does not speak. The mission. The mission. Kaege. She exhales.

"I thought for sure that you were a shinobi," Kaege tells her. "That dance you were doing in the courtyard; your willingness to fight back whenever Mother beats you." Kaege laughs. "But you're so loud that even a deaf man could hear you. If you are a ninja, than you are a poor one. Perhaps I was wrong...perhaps you're just a stubborn little girl who can't control her temper. You get so angry...I can feel it. You're angry right now, aren't you? Step back, away from the gate. Move."

And so Anko moves and does what Kaege asks. But she is still thinking. Her teeth grate. The blade against her back is sharp, but Anko doubts Kaege's willingness to use it.

"We're going to Mother," Kaege tells her. So smug. So sure of herself. "We are—"

_No, we're not._

Anko is done thinking. She moves forward, away from Kaege, away from knife.

"_Stop_." It is a command. "You can't leave."

Kaege quickly presses the knife forward more quickly than intended and it jabs Anko's back, causing her to suck in a breath of air.

Regardless, she keeps walking. Back towards the gate. Behind her, Kaege is sputtering. She is livid. She will not be ignored. She violently grabs her arm and pulls her back.

"What do you think you're doing? You're _not _leaving!"

Anko remains calm. Stupid girl. Stupid Kaege. She lets out another breath. Exhale.

"I am leaving this okiya," she tells Kaege. She is motionless and her breathing has come to standstill. If Kaege really knew that Anko was a ninja, then she should have prepared herself for moments like these. "And you, Kaege, are not going to stop me."

She moves faster than Kaege ever could imagine.

_Don't touch me. _

Twist and turn and grab and –_snap_—

She holds her hand close to Kaege's mouth. Do not scream. Do _not_ scream. Squirm. Broken bones. A wrist is hanging limp. The knife clatters to the ground._ Good. You deserve this. You're lucky this isn't you're neck. _Her mission was never to kill Kaege, but she wants to. Teeth dig into Anko's fingers. There is blood. Anko chokes on her own screams. It hurts. It _hurts_! Kaege will bite off Anko's fingers if it means letting out a well deserved cry. Anko shoves Kaege down, her head cracking against the walkway, but it's not enough. Anko quickly scrambles to silence Kaege'sopen mouth, but she is _too_ slow.

Scream.

"_MOTHER!_"

Above them, in the lofts and bedrooms, there is movement.

The okiya is awake. Lights flash on. Kaege is still screaming.

_"MOTHER! MOTHER! MOTHER! HELP!" _

Footsteps, coming closer. Anko kicks Kaege and the girls screams are muffled but not silenced. These next few seconds are critical. She's fucked up. One, two, three-

A door is opening from behind them. A screen sliding back. She ignores Kaege, and runs to the gate. This is it. This is her escape.

With bloody fingers she twists the blade back in the lock. Open. _Open!_ But the lock does not break and Anko is becoming irrational. The knife breaks off inside the lock and Anko's eyes widen.

-Four, five, six,-

Her fingers make loose hand signs. She will _blow_ open this gate, even if it means blowing her cover. Snake, ram, boar, monkey, horse, tige—

_"Shizuko!"_

Mother.

-Seven, eight, nine,-

_"Mother, oh Mother!"_

_"Kaege?"_

She's interrupted. Her chakra is like a floodgate, but it can't get out.

_"You."'_

Mother is seething. The first strike Anko dodges, but the second she is not so lucky.

_Twack. _Her body lurches forward under the sudden onslaught of the rod striking her backside.

-Ten, eleven, twelve,-

There is no time. She's run out. Mother is here. She's fucked up. She grabs the lock. She twists it in her hand as if to will the metal apart in her fist. She's too weak. _No._

_Twack!_

"_What have you done!_"

"_Mother, she tried to kill me! My wrist! She's trying to run away! Mother!_"

The gate...the gate...open... the lock..._no. _She slams her fist against the iron shafting. It rattles, but nothing comes of her desperate plea for freedom. Turn, her inner self screams. Fight back. You have to fight back. Turn NOW!

_-_Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen,-

The rod strikes her one more time, and _crack_-

Sharp, unrelenting pain. She is fast (but far too slow. Far too nervous, far too desperate. She's not thinking straight. She's not-,)

Then, there is blackness.

_"Don't worry Kaege. I will take care of things."_

This is her escape and it is not happening.

-Sixteen, seventen, eighteen-,

At twenty, she can no longer think (that this mission is a good thing.)

At twenty, she can barely breathe.

_2 months. 0 days_

* * *

**B/N:** ...I editted this as soon as Deviant Nation had it completed. Half an hour ago. God, her grammar sucks.


	4. Chapter 4

**AUTHOR'S NOTE PLEASE READ! **So originally, this note was meant to explain a few questions put out there by all the lovely reviewers, such as, 'When is Kakashi entering this story?' and 'Who is Inu-sama?'. But after much discussion with my beta, we decided it was best _not_ to explain where Kakashi is, and the identity of Inu-sama. We're heartless bastards, we know (and I apologize for my language). I will however state, these two characters are _key_ to the plot and in due time, all will be revealed. So until the plot progresses to the point where everyone's beloved masked ninja enters, I'll leave you to come up with theories on your own.

Also! As a warning, this chapter has _MATURE GRAPHIC_ content. From here, things are only going to get worse before they get better.

* * *

**Dissimulation**

**Chapter 4**

**

* * *

**

She wakes up and she's not quite sure where she is.

"What's your name?" a woman drawls. She sits slouched in an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair, her kimono askew; the obi barely tied together. The scoop of her flat chest shows through shadows in the murky lamp light, her chest a pasty white. She looks sickly and somehow her face reminds Anko of dried out strips of sashami. At one point, Anko thinks, she could have been beautiful, but all semblance of allure has faded with age. Her make-up is caked on far too thick, a poor attempt at an illusion to hide wrinkles, like plaster smoothing out cracks in a wall. Her red lipstick looks violent; her smoky eyes dreary and dead. She can't be past the age of thirty, but her body looks worse for wear, deceiving any traces of youth she once might have retained. From her thin, elongated fingers she holds a cigarette holder with a smouldering butt that burns heavy and thick. It smells, and the scent burns her nostrils.

"I'm..." She looks up, and over at the barely dressed woman. This...this isn't the okiya. There is no room like this what so ever _anywhere_ in the okiya. The pain, throbbing outwards from the back of her neck is sending her into some sort of daze. It's difficult to think. On a basic level of thought, she's very tempted to say _'I'm Anko, Anko Mitarashi. Please, let me go...this is all a mistake...let me go home!'_, but instead, says, "_Shi_-Shizuko", and lets her tongue fall dead on the edge of her lips. It kills her to say this, but she says it none the less. Where ever she is, she has to remain in character. She isn't Anko. This is for Konohagakure, remember? Yet she's surprised, because she can barely remember anything at all. With cognizance barely taking hold of her, there is only thing she can manage at the moment, and that is simply telling whoever this woman is that she is nothing but a lie.

"I'm Saeko," the woman tells her. She unfolds her legs, letting the kimono expose them in an immodest manner, but somehow, she seems unfazed. "This," she says, motioning around the tiny, crumbling room, "is your new home. Old hag Oshime must have hit you pretty hard to have you sleep for so long. It's been three days since she brought you here. Hikekure-san thought you were dead."

Anko sits up, bleary-eyed and with a dull throb still aching from the base of her skull. Her fingers tentatively reach to the nape of her neck and reveal a swollen vertebra and caked-on blood that has dried to her hair. The spot is tender, still healing after the brutal strike to her skull, and she flinches under her own touch. She tries to recalls what happened with little luck. It was all so fast...she was escaping...Kaege screamed. Mother came...then, nothing. Without much thought to the mission, let alone the character of Shizuko, she crawls from her spot on the dirty tatami mat and props herself against the closest wall. She exhales, but the action causes her chest to heave and she flinches again. The room is too dark to properly analyze her surroundings, but it smells like rat droppings and stale body odour. Beneath her, her fingers can feel a layer of grime and grease on the exposed floor boards and the wall behind her head is soft and musty, the plaster crumbling with the weight of her body leaning against it. She lets out a dry cough, and tries to lift her head. It hurts, the pain spreading rapidly through her cranial region like a wild fire. Without meaning to, she groans. Through the daze, she manages to search through the eye-tearing smoke and focuses her sights on Saeko.

"_Where_...where am I?"

"In a _jorou-ya_, sweetie. This one's called Tatsuyo. A favourite of Granny Oshime's, where she offloads any unwanted poor investments, like yourself."

Nothing is making sense. She shouldn't be here...this...is this what Oka-san meant when she said she would take care of things?

"A _jorou-ya_?" she repeats in genuine confusion. "Poor investments?"

Saeko gives an irritable sigh and sits herself up straight. Her hair, long and inky, falls forward, masking parts of her messy looking face. Her fingers twirl the cigarette holder around and around, finally resting the thin jade tube on her knee, the ash falling onto the hem of her kimono.

"This is a pleasure house, Shizuko, where men pay to wriggle around in your bed while you do your best not vomit when they finish. Granny Oshime sold you to Hikekure three days ago. You belong to her now. And you'd be best not to anger her...she has a temper worse than the old hag that sent you here."

A pleasure house? Men wriggling around in her bed? Granny Oshime? And who was Hikekure-san? Anko doesn't know, and still, things are making little sense to her.

"How do you know Oka-san?" Anko asks, still not thinking straight. These are not questions to be asking. Questions such as these do not help her in any such way. What is she expected to do; now that is a question worth asking. How is she to find Benjiro if she isn't a geisha; now that is certainly a question worth asking. But with her head swimming through waves of unrelenting pain and her eyesight still fuzzy, she cannot help but feel delirious and somewhat disorientated. She thirsts for water. Her stomach is empty and grumbling. Words just seem to spill from her mouth before she can even think of what she's saying. She is Anko now, just Anko...Anko going by the name of another girl.

"How do you think I wound up here?" Saeko asks Anko with a thin, vindictive smile. Anko doesn't need an answer to that question; the pieces are slowly falling together. Not much of it is making sense, but she is gaining a basic understanding of what is going on. Oshime had sold her to a whore house. So Anko says nothing and hangs her head in defeat. She hurts. All over. All she wants to do is fall back down onto the mat and go back to sleep. Her head hurts. She's hungry. She feels filthy.

She thinks about Mother and Kaege and the okiya and just like_ that-_

-they are gone.

So she falls back into a fitful sleep and pretends none of this is happening.

* * *

She wakes the next morning in another room, tinier than the last and knows this is where she is meant to "wriggle" around with men. She vomits (the stench is unbearable) and tries to stand. But she is weak, and so sitting is _much_ more easier.

An hour after waking, a woman who Anko does not recognize enters the room and drags her to her feet with uncharacteristic coldness. She says nothing and does not even _look_ at Anko. With a job such as hers (grooming little girls to be raped, raped, _raped_), perhaps she can't even see Anko as a human being. She's just an object. A nobody. Another faceless sack of meat who she cannot stand to recognize as alive otherwise the guilt would consume her. As Anko struggles, she is wrenched from the room and pulled down the hall, weak feet stumbling as she goes. The woman tears off Anko's clothing and shoves her into a dirty ceramic tub. The water is cold. Anko's body slams into tub, her head hitting the edge of the basin and she feels herself losing consciousness again. The woman's hands feel like the bite of a tiger, her nails digging into Anko's skin as she roughly scrubs away the blood and dirt, turning the bath water dingy gray. She is blinded by the harsh soap and it burns when she pours a foul smelling powder over her head.

"To delouse you," is the only thing the woman says. "Who knows what filthy little bugs you might have picked up on the streets."

"_I'm not from the streets_," Anko chokes. "_I'm_—," (I'm from Konoha. I don't belong here. I want to go home. I want to complete this mission and go HOME!)

But the woman twists her arm in a manner so violent that Anko lets out a scream. Her head is shoved underwater, and Anko can taste blood (metallic, bitter, comforting), and she realizes it's her tongue that she's bitten. Somehow, the taste calms her. If she focuses on the blood, then she doesn't have to think about what this woman is doing to her.

The woman yanks Anko out of the dirty bath water and quickly dries her off with a scratchy towel. She combs her hair, running the brush through knots and twisted strands with no sympathy towards the pain she induces every time she pulls out chunks from her skull. (Anko is wincing in pain, silent tears running down her face. It's okay to cry. Even if she's not Shizuko.) From a broken cabinet, the woman pulls out a salve which she quickly rubs into the bruises and cuts covering Anko's backside. She sprays her with some foul, cheap smelling perfume and wraps her in a plain white cotton yukata robe. She dries Anko's tearing eyes with a handkerchief, and silently applies rouge and red lipstick to her pale, prepubescent fourteen year old face.

When she is done, she pushes Anko back down the hall and throws her back into the tiny, filthy room and closes the door with a definite _click_. She's locked in. Her body lands on the floor, a loud, muffled thump filling air, and with weak arms, Anko pushes herself from the ground.

Without even thinking about it, Anko decides she will kill that woman the moment she gets the chance.

But her moments in the _jorou-ya _are limited. She doesn't even have enough time to be by herself.

* * *

With desperation, Anko looks for an escape. But the window is merely a small hole carved out of the plaster and the door is locked shut from the outside. There is no door knob to break, no mechanisms to pick. She's too sickly to perform any sort of jutsu...her body is becoming weaker with each passing day and she's hungry, hungry, hungry; she's in so much pain (with her stomach eating itself and her head in pieces), she can barely think. Her body is burning through her chakra reserves with such adacity, she knows (and can feel) how bad of shape she's in. But she knows what is coming...if she stays here, bad things will happen. Things she was not prepared for in the mission report. She needs to get out.

(But knows that to get out, she needs a plan.)

She begins to claw at the rotting plaster on the walls.

So she does not act rashly (like Shizuko did at the okiya) and tries to formulate something that doesn't come across as stupid. She was always horrible in the academy when it came to stragedy and planning, and this was certainly _not_ in her mission debriefing. Regardless, the main point of her mission remains, and that is to kill Benjiro Bishamon and return home.

But how was she suppose to kill Benjiro while locked in a filthy, little room in a whore-house?

She doesn't know and continues to claw at walls in vain.

* * *

Saeko visits her that evening and tells Anko that Hikekure will be sending up her first customer. It's already been four days and Hikekure is growing impatient. She says her money is going to waste.

(If Anko is a poor investment, will Hikekure sell her to somewhere worse than this, just as Oshime has sold her to a whore house? What can be worse than this, Anko thinks? Somehow, this is all so surreal. This can't be real. This wasn't meant to happen.)

Saeko sees the pile of plaster dust scattered beneath window by the wall and grabs Anko wrists, inspecting the nails and sighing in disgust.

"Don't do this again. If Hikekure sees this, she'll beat you."

Saeko tells her it is best that she does not struggle and that she does not resist. She tells Anko that if need be, she can simply lie on the mat and play dead, because the men will have their fun regardless of her willingness. This news fills Anko with an infinite sort of dread, and her stomach feels ill. Again, she vomits and tries to control her shaking.

She cannot go through with this. She cannot go through with this. Even if this is for Konoha, she cannot go through with this. She throws herself at Saeko's feet and begs her to tell Hikekure to let her _go_.

(She looks so sad, so pretty. Just fourteen years old, her face done up _just _right, shining eyes with speckles of tear drops falling down her face. Men will adore her. Men will _die_ for her.)

She wishes she was stronger, that she hadn't melted away into nothing, that she wasn't pathetic and stupid and _weak._

"_Saeko!" _she pleads. "Saeko...please, this is all a mistake..."

"Sweetie, my whole life has been a mistake. There's nothing I can do for you. If you run, Hikekure will kill you. Don't run. She has men who hunt down her whores just for fun. Just lie down and forget about it. Forget, okay?"

Saeko pushes Anko down to the mat, and smiles at her like a mother would a child; with kindness, understanding, regret. (Everyone is always smiling; Sensei-sama, Hokage-sama, Kaege-teme. She's beginning to realize that it's the easiest way to escape from a situation. Hide behind a smile. Never show your real self. Deception. Lies. Lies. _Lies_.)

Saeko then tells Anko to get a hold of herself, but in an act of some sort of perverse kindness, pulls a flask from inside her kimono and instructs Anko to drink. She literally forces the liquid down the young girl's throat, and Anko is choking, choking, choking (on her fears, on the sake, on _everything_) and Saeko smiles.

"I'm looking for a man," Anko cries to her (begging her _not _to leave). The sake burns and her vision is blurry. She's not thinking straight (she hasn't been for a while now). "I'm looking for a man named Benjiro Bishamon...please Saeko, let me go."

Saeko must think she's crazy, because all she does it give Anko a strange, confused look before creeping to the doorway.

"It'll be alright," the older woman tells her. "Everything will be just fine. Don't worry, Shizuko. Don't worry."

Saeko leaves the room and Anko rushes after her. But the door slams and Anko isn't quick enough (she's stumbling, in pain, in confusion, in an alcoholic daze) and realizes for the first time that _everyone_ has been lying to her the whole time.

The next time she smiles, it won't be because she's happy.

* * *

The first man to force himself upon her, Anko nearly kills. Half-drunk, half strung out on her nerves and body wracking anxieties, she tries to lie still as possible when a burly looking business man who reeks of fish and booze enters the room and sits down next to her on the mat. But as he pulls off her robe and strokes her cheek (she's crying and the man is smiling,_ smiling; _that sick fucking bastard), Anko can feel herself shrivel inside. She remembers Inu-sama preparing her for things like this. For sex. For the lust of men. When Inu-sama touched her, it felt horrible. But this, this is one hundred times worse. She can feel her integrity dying. She's loosing herself. _She's lost her_. How will this ever help her find Benjiro Bishamon? It won't, not ever. Oh gods, oh Kami, oh gods, she can't do this!

Why doesn't she just escape? Why doesn't she just go home?

(You tried to escape from the okiya remember? You failed. You didn't think things through. You never _think_. Hikekure will kill you. Who is Hikekure? She doesn't know. But she is worse than Mother. Don't run. _No_. The door is locked. That isn't what's keeping her here. It's something else. Is it worth it? No. But if she keeps telling herself it is, surely it will become true. Keep crying Anko. It's okay. It's _okay._)

She wills herself not to scream when he fondles her breast and tries not to flinch when his fat fingers move their way downwards.

The man is like a giant ox, bumbling and rough, violently tugging at the string that holds his suit together. And suddenly he's needy and desperate, and he doesn't notice the trembling girl who's crying on the mat. He doesn't see her face, or her emotions, or anything _but_ her body. Like the woman who washed her, he cannot look at her, nor _see_ her, because it's too difficult. She's an object; dead, faceless, without _feeling_, bought and paid for. Otherwise, it would make this situation wrong.

But Anko wants to kill this man for doing this. She wants to show him that this is wrong.

She can't do this. This. Is. _Wrong._

As he forces himself on top of her, suddenly, Anko screams. Gut instinct kicks in, and she's not thinking straight. She has a mission to complete. The mission. What mission? Screw Konohagakure. No. She needs this. _What is she doing! _(She doesn't know, but anything but this is preferable. She's a ninja, fourteen years of age and she is losing her virginity to a stranger.) She kicks and fights and shoves the man away, and with nothing in the room but a basin bowl meant for urination and defecating in, she grabs the pot and slams it into his head. A sickening, dull thud echoes through the room and Anko slams the pot against his head again and again. Blood splatters. Anko's face is speckled in tiny drops of comforting black blood.

Out the room, she can hear people shouting, footsteps rushing up the creaking stairs, a voice calling out:

"_Somebody, help!"_

It's the man beneath her, and as she stares down at his fat, sweaty face, she hisses:

"_No."_

His beady pupils dilate, and she knows this man is fearing for his life. Like a feral animal, she goes for his throat and begins to claw his eyes out (he doesn't want to see the faces of the girls he's raping; now he'll never see again.)

Saeko, half-naked, pulling on her robe, and an older woman in white whom she does not know thrust open the door. Saeko shouts:

"_No, Shizuko! Stop it, no!"_

She doesn't, and Saeko pulls Anko (half screaming, half kicking, half insane) off the man who curls into the corner like a kicked, badly wounded dog. He's whimpering and it makes Anko burn inside.

"_You deserve this!"_ she wants to scream! "_I could have killed you! I'll kill you! I'll..." _But she can't. Before she can even think of lunging at him again, the older woman grabs Anko by her hair and wrenches her from the room. She lets out a painful scream. From the corner of her eyes, she can see Saeko shaking her head and shutting the door behind them. She looks sad. Her messy face is even messier.

Something hits her. Her vision goes black, then white, then red. She coughs up blood and hits the floor. Something grabs at the hair on her scalp and-

-she is being dragged down the hallway by the woman in white. This, Anko thinks, is the woman who will kill me. I will not die on a battlefield, but by the hands of a wretched woman in the back alley of whore-house. Anko blacks out.

* * *

Water, digusting and tasting of boiled fat, is poured onto her face. Anko wakes, blinking slightly, and tasting blood. She swallows it, and swallows again. She looks up. The woman in white is standing there, holding a knife.

"I don't know who you are," the woman snarls violently. She has mean look, possibly just because she's angry, and wispy black hair interloped with strands of gray. She picks up Anko bt the hem of her robe and throws her to the ground again. "And I don't care where you came from. But my name is Hikekure and if you _ever_ do something like that again, I'll have you killed and fed the fish in the Nanoke river."

Anko blinks. The blood in her mouth is pooling in bitter tasting puddles, coating her teeth and cheeks in thick, gooey liquid. The taste...is becoming familiar. After all these months, blood is something she's grown accustomed to tasting. If she just concentrates on the blood-

Without warning, Hikekure pulls the knife to Anko's neck, pressing the sharp, smooth blade into the skin, just enough to draw a thin line of blood.

"I'm sorry," Anko whispers through a strangled cough. "_I'm sorry_—,"

"No you're not," Hikekure sneers. "You don't know 'sorry'. Shoudai was one of our best customers. Now he's blind and looking like he has a broken leg. Stupid Saeko obviously didn't warn you about my temper you _worthless little_ _brat_. I paid too much money for you to become known as a screaming banshee. Banshees don't make money. And if you don't make money, I'll have you killed. If you lose me anymore customers, I'll have you killed. If you even dare _think_ of escaping, I'll have you killed. My alley way is littered with dead bodies, little girl, and nobody cares. You're a prostitute now, understand? It's your_ life _to lie down and be _fucked. _You're _'sorry',_" she mimics cruelly, "but I know hundreds of girls who are sorry. Each and every one of them is either dead or living out their lives here, in the pleasure district. But don't worry; I'll make it so you'll rethink the meaning of the word. You won't dare do this again. You'll realize how good I am to you. I'm your new _Mother._"

The blood coats her tongue and she licks the inside of her cheek. It's taste...is the only thing that is constant in her life at the moment. She has nothing else. Again, she swallows and blinks.

Hikekure's palm, hard and practised, makes contact with Anko's cheek and she's slapped to the floor. Before she can even breath, she is yanked by her hair and forced to her knees. Anko is trembling. She says nothing, and tries to suppress a yelp of pain.

"What's your name?" Hikekure snaps.

"S-shizuko!"

(She's still bleeding...and if she just focuses on the blood pooling in her gums she can ignore all the pain completely.)

"Tell me that you're sorry."

The woman known as Hikekure presses the knife against the exposed slit of Anko's throat and suddenly she's is finding it difficult to swallow. Blood slips from her lips, down, down, down.

"_I'm sorry,"_ she chokes.

"Say it again."

The knife digs in deeper (harder) and the blade is almost cooling against her burning skin. She'll say just about anything at this point, as long as she doesn't die.

"_Hikekure-sama...you're hurting me!"_

"Good."

Moments later, she is free of Hikekure (who is worse than Mother, yes, that lie is true) and spitting out (swallowing desperately) blood. The knife drops to the floor and Hikekure kicks it to the corner. She kneels down next to Anko (who flinches away), and with a wry smile, tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"I can see why you were sold," she tells Anko, her voice suddenly quiet and demure. "Too much fire in your soul. Any fool could see you'd make a terrible geisha. But Oshime was greedy and thought she could spin a profit for your face. I'm even greedier than Oshime, but unlike her, I don't mind beating my girls until they die. The streets are filled with opportunities..."

She stands up, and walks over to the corner, picking up the knife, wiping off the blood on the hem of her kimono.

"I haven't forgiven you yet, _Shizuko_." Her voice is lower than a whisper, a lullaby luring her into another dreamless fit of unconsciousness. "And you're not sorry. You think you are, but you're not. You should have listened to Saeko. Little girls like you need to_ listen_ when you're told what to do. But if you won't listen, then I have other ways of controlling you. Remember this conversation, Shizuko. The next time I talk to you, I _know_ you will be sorry."

(There is blood everywhere and Anko can't get enough of it. Ignore Hikekure. Ignore everyone. The taste of blood is better than anything she has at the moment. When she escapes this place, there will be lots of blood. And Anko will smile.)

Anko senses Hikekure's threats are not idle ones, and the next time she is locked in a room with a fat, sweaty business man (_drugged_, of course she is drugged. They have no other choice), Anko does not resist.

* * *

This is for Konohagakure. This mission is a good thing. This mission...is lost in transition. This mission is killing her.

(Some say she might already be dead and it's happening so fast.)

* * *

1 month 29 days


	5. Chapter 5

Authors Note: So...the last time I updated this was six months ago? _Yeah._ I apologize profusely for the huge delay.

**Dissimulation**

**Chapter 5**

* * *

With everything lost (integrity, self-worth, self-respect, honour,_ her virginity) _Anko figures that going home empty handed is worse being a hated, worthless traitor because then all of this would have been for **nothing.**

So she lets the men fuck her. Clients. They are her clients. Day after day after day. She wears tattered kimonos, ugly and worn, but they're nice enough to look pretty in the filth she's surrounded by. Each day, she is bathed and tended to, scars and bruises and fragile limbs mended after a night with some of the more violent customers. Each day a needle is wormed under her skin, transparent golden liquid, reeking of death and disease pumped into her body. Each day she waits in her room and wishes through lucid hazes for Benjiro Bishamon to be dead. Each night she plays dead on the mat and closes her eyes and pretends she's back in Konohagakure. She's quite the money maker (men love her, men _need _her, men will_ die_ for her) and Hikekure sees this. She's a beautiful girl with a beautiful chest and once upon a time, she was beautifully innocent. Not anymore. Hikekure keeps Anko so drugged and so _physically_ inebriated that she can barely walk. Or talk. Or scream. Or do anything but smile.

(Opium, heroin, fanciful visions of pleasure and pain, and _fuck_, what is going on...)

Because of this, sometimes, when they fuck her, Anko moans (she can't see them, she can't feel them, but there is pleasure...afterwards, when she is coming down, she hates herself for enjoying it. But she's not happy. No. Never happy. Not ever).

And sometimes, when they fuck her, Anko draws blood from their lips and swallows (metallic, bitter, _comforting_. If she can forget what they are doing, somehow, it will make this bearable. Let me taste reality; let me taste something that is _real._ The drugs make things difficult to understand...)

And sometimes, when they fuck her, Anko cries and cries and cries.

"_I want to go home,"_ she whispers. But then all of this would have been for nothing. Pointless battle scars marring a pointless period in her life where absolutely _nothing_ was accomplished.

So slowly, and surely, she is making a list of people she will kill. Not just Benjiro. No. There will be more. And she will see their blood and be reminded of home, and in that moment, have just enough strength to make it there.

She thinks this makes her crazy. Maybe it's just the drugs. It probably is. Making lists of people to kill is something she hasn't done since she was nine or ten (and Orochimaru-sama made her do it. But she can hardly remember him right now, or anything for that matter, so she doesn't know how insane she is. All she can do is breathe in and breathe out. Breathe.)

Until then, she remains docile. Waiting. Just waiting. She needs information. Time is running out.

So after the end of every fuck, with eyes half lidded, her body battered and bruised, Anko begins to whisper into the men's ears:

"_I'm looking for Benjiro Bishamon. Tell me...where can I find him?"_

Escape is _so pointless_ when there is nowhere to go.

* * *

She cannot count the days that she has been here.

And men...well men, they ignore her. They don't know what she's talking about half the time. She's just a drugged body and the fact that she can form sentences seems to annoy them. They get up, pull themselves together and exit the room before Anko can even sit up.

After the men leave, the woman, whom Anko has grown to know as Tanakao comes in and forces her to eat bitter tasting herbs. A thick mixture, smelling of tar and urine is then left for her to consume at her desire.

"To discourage pregnancy," Tanakao tells her. "It's best you drink it."

Most days the drugs have begun to lose their potency at this point, and drinking the mixture she has called 'piss tar' is near impossible. But the idea of bearing the child of one of her 'clients' is unbearable, so Anko drinks the disgusting mixture in earnest. It makes her feel ill. Some days she vomits. Some days she is wracked by horrible, body wracking stomach pains. Some days, she pees blood.

"You don't _have_ to drink it," Tanakao tells her, cleaning up the contents of Anko's stomach which have been spilled all over the floor. Her room is a mess of dried bodily fluids, all of which smell. "Either way, Hikekure makes sure her girls remain barren."

"_What—_what do you mean?"

"A child has no place in a whore house," Tanakao tells her with a stiff lip. "But the alternative methods Hikekure uses to ensure the end of a pregnancy are far more volatile and sickening than the mixture of medicine she feeds you."

Anko doesn't want to think about the other methods Hikekure would implement on her and so continues to drink the piss tar and becomes ill.

By most mornings, Anko begins to feel the withdrawal from the drugs and she is sent into a feverish haze. Walls begin to crawl. The floor shakes. The ceiling is drip, drip, dripping over head and she can't seem to pinpoint where all the noises come from. Tanakao comes and brings her to the woman who bashes her head against the wash basin as she bathes her and Anko swallows blood. Then Tanakao escorts her back into the room smelling of decay and rot and shit and ties a tight rope around her upper left arm. Her veins pop from her skinny, paper thin arms and Anko lets Tanakao inject her with death and disease.

Only now (when the walls have stopped crawling, and she's high as a kite) can she find it bearable to speak.

"Tanakao..."

"Yes, Shizuko?"

"I think..._I think_..."

"You think what?"

Anko makes a strange gurgling sound and lets her eyes roll back into their sockets. She slumps to the floor and Tanakao yells for help.

* * *

A man who calls himself a doctor examines Anko and determines there is nothing wrong with her.

(Because she is fourteen years old and if she looks in a mirror, she will see her abdomen is the color of skim-milk mixed with horrible lashes of purple and blue. There are bright red cuts in her shoulder blades, throbbing and turning yellow and her face is gaunt. Her arms are covered in black pin-pricks, count one, two, three, twelve, twenty-four, one-hundred, and the Doctor says she is fine.)

"A drug over-dose is nothing to be concerned about, Madame Hikekure. I'm sure you have dozens of girls lined up and waiting to replace her."

"This girl is special," snaps Hikekure. "Look at her face. Look at her body."

"I am looking and I see she is badly in need of rest."

"Are you saying she is unfit for work?"

"I am saying she will die if she continues on like this. But I'm sure you have no problems with such issues of morality, am I correct Madame?"

The doctor is wearing a thin smile and Hikekure's face looks sour.

"Shizuko brings in more money a night than half the girls working on the first floor."

"Then perhaps it would be best if you let her..._sleep_...for a few days."

Hikekure pays the doctor from her bulging change purse and examines Anko with beady eyes, a snarl consuming her face.

"Are you sorry yet, little girl?"

Anko does not answer. She keeps her eyes closed and waits. Hikekure growls and has Tanakao carry Anko into clean room where the floor does _not_ smell of piss and blood and vomit. In this room, Anko goes through fits of dissociation and through the withdrawals, bides her time.

* * *

She dreams of Konohagakure. Of street vendors selling sticky sweet candy on bamboo skewers and the first time she ever held a shuriken. She dreams of the Academy and Toutai-sensai (such a nice teacher—a nice man), and the exceptional words that fell from his mouth when he told her she was something special; a kid to be proud of. (And maybe he was right, because others certainly thought she was special too. And that is why her new teacher was Orochimaru-sama.)

She dreams of silly things. And useless things. Like the color of mother's eyes (who she hasn't seen since she was five), the scent of her father (wood and sweat and dirt). She dreams of seven-hundred reasons why she doesn't care anymore; why just returning to Konoha is more important than this inane mission, and somehow that dreams slips back into images of odango and sweet bean paste and when she wakes up (sweating, breathing heavy—starving—scrawny—coughing, and realizing the drugs are gone) she does not cry.

* * *

She has a moment of disassociation. She is looking in the mirror while the unnamed women who she has grown to call "Crone", combs her hair, reigning terror on her scalp, and Mother—_new _Mother—Hikekure, stands idly behind her.

She is fourteen years old and her body looks like that of a little boy. She is tiny. Bones protrude in strange places. The week's rest has allowed the bruises to fade, but only to sickly shades of brown and gray. No longer does she flinch when Crone pulls on her hair. Her face is supine. Her eyes tepidly watch Crone's wrinkled fingers rake the metal points of the fine-toothed pick from the base of her wet roots to the tangled tips. She finds this interesting.

"Re-wrap her left arm and make sure you dose it in antiseptics," Hikekure instructs Crone. The hundreds of tiny needle marks left from the previous weeks of drug instate abuse have left festering wounds that are slow to heal. She turns her attention to Anko (Shizuko?) and clamps down on her shoulder with talon-like claws.

"There will be no more use of needles if you behave," she snarls.

Anko nods, but does not say a word—she does not say "go die", or "I will kill you soon", or "fucking bitch". She does not say these because soon they will become self evident.

Hikekure leaves, and Crone re-bandages her arm. She doesn't put on the antiseptic like asked and Anko does not say a word.

She is fucked by her first customer in nearly two weeks and there is no body wracking flinch in the aftermath. She stays quiet as he leaves and doesn't move until Tanakao comes with the piss medicine. Tanakao leaves. Anko vomits, and later, coughs up blood.

* * *

Saeko comes to visit her and brings her food—real food. The older woman sets the bowl of sticky natto down in front of Anko and lights a cigarette. Anko's not quite sure _why_ she has chosen to visit. Actually, yes, she knows. She knows Saeko visits for Hikekure, for no altruistic reason other than she was ordered to, to see if Anko is _adjusting _and playing the part of someone quiet and meek and someone who does _not _cause chaos. Anko knows Saeko doesn't give a shit; that maybe, somewhere deep down she feels sorry for her, only because when she looks at Anko she sees herself, twenty years ago, and this is enough to make the women sad. Anko sort of likes Saeko in an awkward, discomforting sort of way, but she doesn't like her enough to not kill her. Saeko is on the list.

The food tastes like heaven. But Anko has more important things on her mind.

"Saeko," she asks, meekly, quietly, expectedly. "What day is it?"

The woman cranes her neck left and raises a highly plucked eyebrow, letting out a plume of smoke before pursing her heavily painted lips. She takes a moment to ponder this, as she too is lost to the jorou-ya and can't remember the real world. She flicks the ash of her cigarette to the floor and sighs.

"Thursday," the woman finally responds. "It's the Thursday right after the Hanazumo Festival. Why?"

Anko thinks about her response and decidedly, she doesn't care what Saeko knows or doesn't know. She takes another bite of the natto and swallows.

"I'm supposed to be at the Li Suri Bridge in three weeks time," Anko finally tells her. A wry smile was working its way up onto her face (because she doesn't care, care, care—who fucking cares?) and she takes another bite.

Saeko grunts, and then Saeko laughs and says in a voice so dry: "Is _that_ so?" and Anko nods and says, grinning (unevenly, unhinged, disconnected) in response: "Stupid, right?"

And Saeko agrees, still laughing and says: "Sweetheart, whoever you're meeting at the bridge shouldn't hold their breath. You'll never make it out of here alive."

Anko starts to laugh so hard that her stomach hurts and she shakes her head and Saeko puffs on her cigarette and together they sit on the floor of a room that they both want to burn to the ground. Anko finishes her bowl of natto and Saeko finishes her cigarette, says goodbye, and leaves.

Later, nobody comes carrying needles and tourniquets, and Anko knows that Saeko didn't say a word. Stupid Saeko. (Laughing, smiling, not believing a word she says.) Saeko knows.

* * *

3 weeks.


End file.
